Know what this game reminds me of? “Second Coming” by The Stone Roses. You wait ages for it to drop, and then … it’s good, it really is, but it also sort of struggles under its own weight.
For one thing, Yu Suzuki has almost wilfully ignored everything that has happened in the last 20 years of game development. Shenmue 3 is a Shenmue game, which means that it is completely a noughties game. The controls are deeply weird, the pacing is slow, the dialog stilted. It’s … Shenmue, basically. It’s like GTA, The Witcher and Red Dead never happened.
Visually, it is very very lovely. What Yu Suzuki and team have captured, magnificently, is a sort of idealised pastoral of rural China in the 80s, with saturated colours and glow turned up to max. It has a sort of dream-like quality. Combine that with the music, which is as sweeping and beautiful as ever, and you have a game which – while painfully slow at times – is never less than epic.
Does it still stand up as a game in 2019? Hmm. Not really, if I’m honest. I mean, I’m a total Sega fanboy, and I played and loved the first two Shenmue games on the Dreamcast. But you can’t pretend that the last two decades haven’t happened, and Shenmue 3 just doesn’t have the “wow” factor that it had back in 1999, and which made us overlook so much of the clunkiness in the game mechanics.
Still, for all that, it’s undeniably good to hang out with Ryo Hazuki again. Now, does anyone know where I can find sailors?
Some time towards 11pm, I was the last one awake in the house and more than several beers down, and it seemed a good idea to sit down and properly listen to “Ghosteen”, the new Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds record.
In terms of my appreciation of one of my very favourite recording artists and songwriters, it was an excellent idea. In terms of my own emotional equilibrium, it was an appalling one.
See, Ghosteen is the first thing Nick Cave has written since he lost his son. And, well, it’s a grieving record. And a healing record. And … I don’t know … there’s something about it which has just got under my skin in a way that nothing has since … well, since I don’t know when.
Maybe it’s the ethereal production, or the sparse arrangements, or the way the mix shoves Old Nick’s voice right up front and centre, or the fact that the words that he’s singing are simultaneously both marvellously crafted and precise and just heartbreaking beyond measure. I don’t know. But this is a record that stays with you.
Go buy it. Just, y’know, clear some headspace first. You’re going to need it.
Having acquired not one but two MiniDisc players (the first one I bought turned out not to be a recorder – probably why it was so cheap) and a bunch of MiniDiscs, the next job was to work out how to actually get some music onto the ruddy things.
I had assumed that my Denon HiFi would have a S/PDIF optical out, and that I would be able to record MiniDiscs from there like one did back in the day. I assumed wrong. They’re both optical ins, it can’t output digitally.
I could record from an analogue signal, but I really wanted to keep it digital rather than lose quality by going through multiple conversions.
So I turned to my PC. Now, normally I get audio out of my PC using this glorious little USB DAC, which sounds wonderful and which I highly recommend for a real upgrade over built-in PC audio, but – by its very nature – it outputs analogue audio. No dice.
After a bit of research, I happened upon the Behringer UCA222 USB audio interface, which (amongst quite a few other things) can output direct to S/PDIF via toslink.
I’ve had to muck about with the recording levels on my MiniDisc recorder a fair bit (digital distortion is not a nice sound) but this seems to be a good solution: I can play a CD or a FLAC playlist on my PC, tell the playback software to output to the Behringer, and then hook the Behringer up to the optical in on my MiniDisc recorder. Hit record, hit play, wait a while. The Behringer allows you to use headphones to monitor, and you can switch between monitoring input and output so you can check levels etc.
So, yeah. I can now listen to music on a thoroughly obsolete technology. Because reasons.
I have a thing about old/obsolete media formats, especially ones that were a) good and b) never really took off as they ought to have. Witness for example my mild obsession with Iomega Rev drives. What need do I have, really, for 70GB removeable cartridges in an age where you can pick up a 1TB USB3 drive for less than 40 quid? None at all; and yet, I still use them for some non-core backups. For no reason other than that I find them pleasing.
So it is that I’ve finally turned my attention to the grandaddy of all the also-ran formats: the MiniDisc.
Back in the 90s, I was dimly aware of MiniDisc: a few rich kids had them, and towards the late 90s / early 00s as I was pratting around in bands and things, I came across them as field recording devices and handy tools in the sound engineer’s arsenal for backing tracks and the like. Never owned one myself though, until now.
In a spate of probably ill-advised late night eBaying, I have now acquired:
A Sharp MiniDisc recorder
A tiny Sony MiniDisc portable player
A USB to TOSLINK adapter for my PC
A bunch of new-old-stock MiniDiscs
Why? I have absolutely no idea. But I’m going to have a ton of fun making mixtapes and the like.
Just following up on my last post, my attention has been drawn (or rather, drawn back) to eM Client. It’s early doors, but so far it’s like night and day. So fast. So straightforward. Proper support for Gmail, without arsing around. A proper unified inbox.
All it needs now is for its developers to team up with Tutanota and I will have email Nirvana. How about it, guys?
UPDATE: I just asked it to mark over 12,000 archived Gmail messages as read and it showed me the spinny wheel of Aaargh for a grand total of about 3 seconds before quietly shoving the job into the background and giving me back control. Damn, this thing is impressive. Me like.
Which – leaving aside for the moment that fact that art 15 expressly doesn’t apply to links per se, and in fact is aimed at the practice of scraping snippets of third party websites for aggregation and presentation in search results, so calling it a “link tax” is kind of bollocks – is exactly how I predicted Google would respond. Here’s what that blog post actually means:
“Hey there publisher buddies! Great to see you! Love your work! Say, some European dudes are saying we’re not allowed to scrape all your stuff for free without asking any more, so if you’d just opt in to letting us carry on doing it then that’d be great. What? No, we’re not going to pay you. Don’t be silly. We’re Google. No, of course you have a choice. But, y’know, I bet all your competitors will be cool with it, and you wouldn’t want to drop down the search rankings now, would you? No. Thought not.”
Google, 2019 (possibly)
I mean, I don’t know what the people who framed art 15 were thinking. Did they really think Google wouldn’t spot the lacuna in their precious new law? Well, I call it a lacuna. It’s really more in the nature of a massive loophole you could drive a fucking bus through.